


For here am I sitting in a tin can (far above the world)

by frostysunflowers



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Kinda, Love Confessions, M/M, Nebula is a Good Bro (Marvel), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, sorry peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26957788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: Now, as he sits here again, the distant echo of Quill’s music the only thing to be heard, there’s only one more person left to talk to.Beside him, Peter’s shadow shimmers. "Mister Stark?""Don’t - you’re notreal, kid.""Oh," Peter replies, forlorn. "Well that sucks.""Yeah. Yeah, it really does."Trembling slightly, Tony leans forward and works his fingers into the helmet, fumbling inside until there’s a soft beep and a blue light flickers twice before settling on him fully. Sitting back with a sigh, Tony waits for the dizziness to abate before smiling."Hey, honeybear."orTrapped in space after the fight on Titan, Tony says all the things he should have said a long time ago.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark, Nebula & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 111





	For here am I sitting in a tin can (far above the world)

**Author's Note:**

> As you can probably tell by the title, you can blame the song Space Oddity for this. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Time is an odd thing. 

For all its rules and complexities, there really is no rhyme or reason to it. A month can rush by as quickly as a week when fun is being had, while one horrible day can feel like an eternity. 

And as for the very specific amount of twenty-two days, well…

Grief has free reign over how those pass by. 

Slowly, indecipherably, painfully - and yet Tony knows they’ve fast run out of whatever time the universe had decided to grant in the aftermath of his failure. Between running out of food and the fuel cells finally biting the dust despite all attempts to repair them, he’s absolutely exhausted in a way that runs further than bone-deep. 

Thoughts of Peter haunt him constantly: ghostly apparitions that lurk in the corner of his eye, a disembodied voice that seems to echo through the darkened shell of the ship. 

_I don’t wanna go sir, please, I don’t wanna go I don’t wanna go -_

Then there’s the ceaseless void of space outside the windows; a giant gaping maw of cold, twinkling blackness that stretches as far as Tony’s eyes can bear to look. All those years of fearing space and yet terror isn’t the overriding emotion that he feels as he sits in Quill’s chair, marked by a rough _PROPERTY OF P QUILL GET LOST ROCKET_ scratched into part of the paneling, and stares out at the cascading stars and swirls of faraway galaxies. 

It’s sorrow. Infinite, inescapable, infused completely into Tony’s soul to the point where he feels almost numb with it, the loss far too great to truly comprehend. 

At least he’s not alone in his misery though. 

Nebula, though initially stony and silent, had warmed up to him surprisingly quick. Perhaps it’s because he was injured, sweating through a fever from the infection causing chaos in the wound Thanos left him with, or perhaps because she needed the distraction, something to keep her moving. 

But really, as she gently pushes the last of the food towards Tony, he likes to think it’s because in this small trap of time, this brief moment of their lives that seems to lasts longer than any other, she’s grown to care for him like he has for her. It goes beyond shared regrets and matching failures, further than their unspoken acceptance of their fate. It’s real, delicate but welcome, and Tony wishes that it didn’t have to end. He’d like to get back home, help fix whatever it is running riot in her circuits that makes her twitch in pain every so often, introduce her to Rhodey - 

_Rhodey._

Tony’s done his best not to think about Rhodey. It’s bad enough thinking about Pepper, especially when the last words they exchanged had been her telling him not to go.

His last conversation with Rhodey had been so stupidly mundane. Nothing but a quiet night in, bickering typically over pizza while a movie played unnoticed in the background. Two days later, Strange had stepped out of one of his portals and interrupted Pepper as she pestered Tony for the millionth time to get up off his ass and tell Rhodey how he feels. 

God, he wishes he’d listened to her. 

"Stark."

"Bluebell," Tony replies, tilting his head to smile at her, feeling the thin skin of his face stretch tight over his cheekbones. "What’s it gonna take for you to call me Tony? Fixing more of my gruesome wounds? Or maybe I should sing more of Quill’s music for you." He clears his throat loudly, chuckling weakly when he catches the faintest twitch of Nebula’s mouth. 

"Fine. Tony," she amends, "the oxygen levels are almost depleted. It’ll run out within the next twenty-four hours."

"Look at you, using terran time measurements. What is that in space talk? Minutes? A whole moon cycle?"

Nebula looks away, reluctant to answer, and that’s enough for Tony to know that it isn’t long at all. 

"Right," Tony nods, tucking the bulk of Quill’s jacket tighter around himself as a cold trail winds down his spine. "Okay, well…" he sighs, then instantly wishes he hadn’t for how lightheaded it makes him feel. God, he’s so tired. "Guess I better get back to it."

Nebula nods and moves to assist him. He doesn’t protest or try to wave her off and gratefully hooks one of his arms weakly around her shoulders. He can feel her strength waning too, for she’s not as solid as she was a few days ago, and yet she gets him onto the flight deck without complaint, leaving him be with a soft promise to check back soon.

The battered remains of the Iron Man helmet remain on the floor as they have since he started recording messages a few days ago, fervently and foolishly hoping that they were able to cross the mammoth distance between here and home. At the very least, he hopes that if someone ever finds the ship out here, they’ll find the recordings too. 

He’d started with May. The first attempt had been a disaster, nothing but a few choked syllables and a rush of tears that left him curled up in a ball in the corner, the pain from his stab wound nothing compared to the burn of guilt in his heart. Part of him, a very dark part, hopes that she didn’t make it. The idea of May living in a world where both her husband and her son in all but blood have been stolen away from her is too much to bear, and it’s with this thought in mind that Tony talks to her, tells her how sorry he is, how she was right all along about him and that he wishes more than anything that Peter hadn’t followed him. He imagines her face, hard and wide-eyed as she watches him talk, the fury of a mother’s love pouring out of her as she listens and seethes with hatred for him, because how could she not? 

Through it all, Peter’s shadow looms by his side, unbearably silent and heavy. 

When he talked to Happy, it ended up being a longer message than he anticipated. They’ve been friends for so long that they don’t need to speak half the time to know what the other is saying, and when they do it’s always dry, snarky, fond with playful sarcasm. Tony’s trusted Happy with his life for a long time, and though he’s never said as much, he loves the guy something fierce, and he knows that Happy, for all his gruff grumpiness, feels the same way. He tells Happy that he’s a great guy, the very best bodyguard he could have ever ask for; to stay with Pepper and take all of his favourite cars from Tony’s collection and go wild, because he deserves a vacation or two. 

It took him longer to record a message for Pepper, and not just because he and Nebula decide to have one last go at repairing the fuel cells, tools flying everywhere, sparks stinging their skin and Tony’s bones quivering uselessly as he struggled to catch his breath. His mind summons vicious what if’s, paints Pepper’s terrified face into his thoughts as she fades away into dust just like Peter did, or shows her completely alone in the world as it falls apart around her. Pepper’s brave, so strong that Tony thinks she could have defeated Thanos if she were in his place, but even that kind of strength can’t survive being alone. 

He goes for levity first, teasing her in the way she always secretly loves because she can smilingly chew him out for it in return, telling her that she can have all the paintings from the tower and that the other eighty-eight percent is now all hers because he’s feeling generous. He tells her that he believes she’ll be the one to make the difference in whatever’s left, and that he’s so sorry he won’t be there to see her kick ass on a much grander scale than she already does. 

He tells her that she’s his best friend, that he’s sorry and that he loves her. When he ends the recording, it’s with tears in his eyes and another fracture in his heart. 

Now, as he sits here again, the distant echo of Quill’s music the only thing to be heard, there’s only one more person left to talk to. 

Beside him, Peter’s shadow shimmers. "Mister Stark?"

"Don’t - you’re not _real,_ kid."

"Oh," Peter replies, forlorn. "Well that sucks."

"Yeah. Yeah, it really does."

Trembling slightly, Tony leans forward and works his fingers into the helmet, fumbling inside until there’s a soft _beep_ and a blue light flickers twice before settling on him fully. Sitting back with a sigh, Tony waits for the dizziness to abate before smiling. 

"Hey, honeybear."

He pauses, as though waiting for a reply, imagining Rhodey’s voice saying, " _Hey yourself, Tones,"_ with all the standard exasperation and affection. 

"So...crazy times, huh? Bet the whole world is asking for a refund right now." He looks at the jagged eye sockets of the mask, lets his gaze slip until he can almost pretend it’s Rhodey looking back at him. "I’m sorry I haven’t tried to talk to you until now. Truth is, it’s easier not to. And I don’t know if you’re ever going to see this. I don’t even know if you’re…God, I hope so."

The wound throbs and he places a hand over it, pushing pressure against the ache. "Not looking my best right now, I gotta say. I know you’re used to seeing me looking like a hot mess but this is far more on the messy side of the spectrum than I’d like. Could be worse but thanks to the blue meanie back there, I’m not doing too bad. Ah, you’d love her, Rhodey. Very practical, got a bit of sass to her, only a little bit sadistic. Hell, if I thought I was gonna make it back and that she wouldn’t stab me for saying so, I’d say let’s adopt her." 

Tony falls silent for a moment, catching his breath and closing his eyes. When he opens them again, he’s staring out into the cavern of space outside the window. It’s not as dark as before: there’s swirls of emerald green and sapphire blue within the stars, haunting in their beauty. 

"Heck of a view though, if you don’t think about the existential terror of it all. Kinda reminds me of the time we first watched Empire Strikes Back together, you remember? Christmas at your house, the first time you ever brought me home with you for the holidays. You know the part I mean, when it’s Luke and Leia standing on the ship watching the Falcon fly off to look for Han and the music does that epic soaring thing that hits you right in the chest. Jeez, did John Williams make it? That’s a depressing thought."

The tears catch Tony off guard. He thought he’d make it further than this; at least reach some kind of confession before the waterworks started. He’s so tired, so wretchedly exhausted and cold, every bit of him raw and aching. 

"Uh, what else...All the food and water is gone, oxygen will run out pretty soon so...no blaze of glory for me." He fumbles a hand against his face, brushing some of the escaped tears away. "Seems like a thousand years ago, doesn’t it? Those late nights at MIT, all the stupid, brilliant stuff we did. You’ve always been there, the best thing in my life, the best man I know."

Tony’s breath is coming faster now, the slowly thinning air and the desperation to suddenly get these words out pulling all the space out of his lungs. There’s too much time for regret, nothing to do but grieve about what could have been, but he’ll be damned if he dies without any of it being said. 

"I’m only a hero because of you, Rhodey. You saved me the day I crashed through the door to our dorm for the first time and met you. All the mistakes and bad choices I’ve made...they would have been a hundred times worse if it weren’t for you. Well, ignoring the obvious but I guess we’re all allowed at least a few disasters, right? I mean, look at Dum-E and his rancid smoothies, the little lunatic. Hey, do me a solid and look after him, yeah? He always liked you best."

Tony forces a laugh and it turns into a brittle cough that pitches him forward, elbows on the floor and back arching. "God," he gasps, "can’t even confess my undying love for you without making a mess out of it. Go figure."

When he reaches out to touch the face of the helmet this time, he pictures Rhodey’s face again; imagines that it’s warm, dark skin that he’s stroking, a familiar smile that he’s tracing his fingers over. "I should probably lie down and rest my eyes for a while. But please know, when I drift off, it’ll be like everything else lately, like everything ever, really...I’m fine, totally fine, ‘cause I’m gonna dream about you." 

He smiles, pressing a kiss to his palm and patting it against the helmet. 

"Because it’s always you."

 _I love you,_ he thinks as he ends the recording, sobs burning through him even though his body has used up the last of his tears. _I love you I love you I love you._

Time goes weird after that. 

Tony thinks he might have stretched out on the floor with the intention of sleeping, but really the possibility of him having passed out is just as likely. At some point he feels hands, infinitely gentle despite their hardness, curl over his shoulders, but he can’t find the strength to react. When he manages to open his eyes for a brief moment sometime later, he’s propped up against the wall and Nebula is beside him, their shoulders pressed together and her legs stretched out alongside his. 

There’s no music playing anymore. Just an alarm beeping faintly somewhere in the ship, a garbled voice saying something about levels dropping, and Nebula’s faint breathing. 

He figured out a little while ago that she would last longer than him. Not much longer, perhaps a week or two at the most, but it might as well be a lifetime for how slowly that will pass, stuck in here with no air, no hope and nobody to talk to. 

Tony doesn’t want her to be alone. 

With great effort, Tony lifts his arm and fumbles along Nebula’s arm until he finds her metal hand, nudging her fingers apart with his until they slot together in a loose hold. She stiffens momentarily, clearly surprised and unsure of the gesture, then softly closes her fingers over his a little tighter. 

On his other side, Peter’s silent shadow flickers away and that’s all Tony knows as he drifts off again. 

His dreams are nonsensical at first, nothing but hazy faces and trails of sound that he can’t quite grasp. It’s warm wherever he is, his body no longer frigid and hardened. Even the pain has vanished too, not a twinge or throb to be felt anywhere. 

There’s no sign of Rhodey. 

Someone calls out to him from close by and everything bursts into bright and inviting clarity, revealing Peter. There he is, on the ceiling, hair a wild halo around his head and a wide grin on his face, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

"Hey, Mister Stark!"

Tony stares up at him, wonder and relief overwhelming him. "Kid?"

"Sorry about the footprints," Peter says with a sheepish shrug. "I’ll get a broom in a sec."

"No - don’t." Tony holds up his hands, terrified that if Peter moves too much, he’ll disappear all over again. "It’s fine. Little dirt never hurt anyone."

Peter’s face softens and something whisps away from his shoulders. 

Dust. 

"Kid - "

"It’s not your fault, Mister Stark," Peter says, shaking his head, a few more specks of dust floating away. "Okay? Promise me that you’ll believe that."

It hurts to hear it, because Tony knows that it’s not true. It’s his fault, all of it, everything. It’s his fault that Peter’s gone, young and frightened and _apologising -_

A hand lands gently on his back and Tony turns sharply to find Pepper standing behind him, beautiful as always, smiling softly at him with twinkling eyes. 

"Pep," he whispers, immediately reaching out to pull her close. 

He hears a distinctive trill, the telltale burst of a fire extinguisher, and Happy’s belligerent grumbling from nearby. Turning again to get a better look, Pepper’s hand on his cheek pulls his attention back to her. 

"Pep?"

"You need to wake up."

"Yeah, Mister Stark!" Peter chimes in. "You gotta wake up."

"I don’t think I can," Tony whispers, leaning into Pepper’s touch. "I don’t even know if I want to."

"You have to," Peter insists, suddenly tearful. "You can’t stay here. You need to wake up."

"I _can’t - "_

Pepper tilts her head and there’s dust flowing off her too, stealing the edges of her face away. "But what about Rhodey?"

_Rhodey._

"Where is he?" Tony asks, afraid to know the answer. "Where’s Rhodey?"

He doesn’t get a reply because they’re fading away now, everything slipping back into haze and blurs. Tony calls out for them, plunges his hands into the swirling mess around him to try and pull them back, but it’s no use. 

_Rhodey...where are you..._

Silence falls.

It stretches on and on, endlessly and forever until Tony’s blinking awake again with a gasp, the sprawling pit of despair in his chest bigger than it was before. Nebula is still there next to him, head tipped ever so slightly forward in sleep, something he’s never seen her do until now. 

Their hands are still linked together. 

Tony breathes as deeply as he can, head swimming, eyelids already closing from the relentless exhaustion. The ship remains quiet, the alarm still warbling on somewhere, but there’s another sound making itself known alongside it. 

Multiple sounds, in fact.

They almost remind Tony of footsteps. 

And voices. 

He blinks sluggishly and suddenly ethereal light floods the room, bathing everything nearly luminous. Tony flinches against it, closing his eyes and tugging on Nebula’s hand at the same time. He feels her tense and rise up almost instantly, her hand falling out of his grasp, boots clanging on the floor. Words are spoken, uneven tempos and rapid harshness, then someone is saying Tony’s name. 

There’s a familiar whirring, rippling metal, then someone touches his face with warm hands that cup his jaw and turn his head from side to side. 

"C’mon, Tony, look at me, please. Come on."

Tony knows this voice. It’s his favourite voice in the whole world: the one that sang songs with him as they built robots in college and rumbles deep within a broad chest whenever they laugh together. 

_Rhodey._

As though pushing all the weight off the world off himself to do so, Tony slowly opens his eyes. 

"I can’t believe it," someone who sounds suspiciously like Steve Rogers whispers, "he’s actually alive."

In the bizarre brightness, Rhodey’s face stands out like a beacon, his eyes peering at Tony tearfully. 

"Tony…"

A sleepy kind of relief bursts to life, soothing a little of that numbness from Tony’s soul. With something like a whimper, he sluggishly tilts forward into Rhodey’s arms, forehead pressing into the warmth of his neck. 

_Rhodey...Rhodey’s here..._

"Nebula," a rough and unfamiliar voice says mournfully, "where’s - where’s Quill?"

Tony doesn’t hear Nebula reply. Not that he’s trying hard to listen to anything but the thrum of Rhodey’s pulse by his ear; the low murmur of Rhodey’s voice as he talks. 

"It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. Carol, the lady over there, you see her? Yeah, she helped us find you. I’m here, Tones. I’m gonna take you home."

There’s suddenly a hundred things Tony wants to say. 

He wants to tell Rhodey about how he failed; how Peter had died crying and afraid and it’s all his fault. 

He wants to ask what happened back home, if Dum-E and FRIDAY miss him, if Pepper and Happy made it even though he thinks he already knows the answer. 

He wants to know if Rhodey is okay, ask how the hell the glowing lady managed to help him get here. 

But more than anything, Tony wants to tell Rhodey that he loves him. Fiercely, unapologetically, with every bone and every fibre of his being, more than best friends, more than everything else. 

And he must do exactly that because Rhodey is pulling him even closer, nose bumping against Tony’s forehead as he says, "I love you too. I love you too, so much, you stupid idiot," like he’s known it all along. 

With those words echoing in his head, Tony starts to drift again, a mask on his face and strong arms still holding him tight. He knows that when he wakes, the grief and sorrow will remain, furious and unforgiving and still at the mercy of time. 

But at least he won’t have to try and dream of Rhodey to see him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing as there’s more than one Quinjet flying around and we know that Hulk managed to fly one all the way to Sakaar, I think it’s fine to say that as soon as Carol knows where the Benatar is, Rhodey would have been on board another jet and at the controls before anyone could even blink. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kind comments and kudos appreciated <3


End file.
